Chapter 17 - Kristopher
“Again?” I snarl in anger. “What the fuck is going on? Where was security?” I’m shouting, my temper lost. This is the fourth attack in the space of two weeks, and it’s seriously pissing me off.
Not only has it taken time away from being at home with Georgie and Jess while she’s visiting, but it’s confusing the living hell out of me. Jess has already been here a few weeks, and I’ve hardly seen her because of this bullshit.
“Sir, the security team was deployed at the larger warehouse where we were receiving that big shipment,” Leonard says, as concerned as I am about the constant irritation of these attacks. I’ve been getting home late, unable to sleep while I toss and turn, trying to figure it out.
“For fuck’s sake. How would anyone know that, though? How would they know this venue was on minimal staff?” I huff. “It just doesn’t make sense.”
“Do you think…do you think it’s your father and Koskos?” My head of security knows my concerns about my father. He’s the one leading the team investigating everything.
“This isn’t his MO.” I shake my head, pushing my hand through my hair. It really isn’t. It’s not him and it’s not Ali. “This method seems very familiar to some of my allies. The smaller Bratva groups I work with in this city. People who are meant to be on my team.”
“Why would they attack?” Leonard asks, his brows furrowing deeply.
“That’s exactly what’s worrying me. Have they switched sides?” I ask.
“It wouldn’t make sense. No matter what your father could offer them, it can’t be bigger than the power you hold in this city,” he says thoughtfully. “It would be an incredibly risky move for them. The reward would have to be substantial.”
I let out a long, slow breathe, trying to reign my anger in, but it’s no good.
I spin towards Leonard. “Fucking figure it out. What the fuck do I pay you for?” I snarl, then storm off, marching towards my office in the back of the warehouse to see what inventory we had on site.
I need to add the calculations to the total loss incurred this week.
Four attacks. Two of them involved significant damage from explosives, and the other two involved loss of product. Luckily, none of my men have been killed, but there have been a few serious injuries, and it’s only a matter of time before I do lose men.
On edge, I sit in my office chair, my leg bouncing with nervous tension. My mind is racing, trying to figure it all out, but I can’t get a grip on anything. It does not make sense.
A knock on my door pulls my thoughts outwards. My assistant is standing just inside my office. “Mr. Ilyin, can I bring you a cup of coffee?” she asks, taking another step towards my desk.
“Do I fucking look like I fucking want coffee?” I shout.
Her eyes shoot wide, and she scuttles backwards in fright. “Sorry, sir. I just thought…”
“You thought wrong. Get out.” She runs from my office on the verge of tears.
People should know by now to steer clear of me when shit like this is agitating me. Why is every single one of my employees so incompetent?
Picking up my phone, I start dialing numbers. Someone has to know something. I don’t know who I can trust or who I can rely on, but someone has to have information for me.
I can’t have lost all my inner-city alliances. Impossible. But the idea burns anxiety into the pit of my stomach, spreading up through my chest like acid.
I make one call, five calls, ten calls. It grows dark outside and I keep calling. Everyone I speak to plays it cool. I can’t read them over the phone, and no one is giving away a damned thing.
By nine, I’m exhausted, and the phone is hot against my ear from hours of use.
It has been a long, tedious, and utterly unsuccessful series of conversations. I know nothing more than when I started.
“Fuck,” I shout angrily into the empty office, hearing my voice echo through the door and into the warehouse.
Standing up, I shove my chair backwards and mutter to myself.
I’m famished, and there’s no point in sitting here any longer. Tomorrow is a new day, and maybe, by some miracle, Leonard will have found some information on the streets.
Grabbing my jacket, I shrug it onto my shoulders and shove my phone into my pocket.
I walk through the mostly empty warehouse, out to my car.
The drive home is a blur of angry thoughts and unanswered questions that won’t stop circling in my mind.
How do you fight a ghost?
I park outside my mansion and slam the car door behind me, walking towards the front door, I’m thinking about my father.
Even if he did manage to convince some of my allies to flip sides, it shouldn’t be enough of them that they feel confident to attack me.
I still, presumably, own the bulk of this city.
As I walk into the mansion, Jess hurries to me and hugs me. “Hey, big brother, why have you been working so late every night when you have such a beautiful wife waiting for you at home?” She’s teasing, but her comment flares inside me.
“Because someone has to stop this fucking family from tearing itself apart, and it seems that it has to be me,” I snap, stepping away from her hug.
“Excuse me,” she snaps back fiercely. “Don’t you dare speak to me like that. You aren’t alone in this. And there is zero reason for you to take your anger out on me, no matter what is going on at work.”
She’s glaring at me.
I groan loudly and press my fingers into my temples.
“Sorry,” I growl.
“Don’t say sorry, tell me what’s actually going on,” she demands, placing her hands on her hips and blocking my path. “Is it Faiz? Our darling father?”
“No, I don’t know. It might be,” I sigh. “It’s possible he’s turned some of my inner-city allies against me. We’ve had four attacks this week alone.”
She pulls her mouth to the side. “Okay, obviously that’s not good, but seriously, Kris, you’ve dealt with far worse situations than this during your time running this city.
Even our father isn’t exactly the worst enemy you’ve faced.
Why does this have you in such a shit mood?
It takes a lot for you to lash out at me like that.
” She speaks calmly, not offended by my nastiness, but rather trying to help me understand it.
“Fuck. I really am sorry,” I mutter, with far more sincerity than before. She’s right. I never lash out at her. My employees often feel the brunt of my temper, but not my sister.
“So, what’s so different about this?” she asks, pushing me to explore my own thoughts.
I chuckle, a dry sort of laugh, as realization hits me like a lightbulb switching on in my brain.
Georgie. She’s in my life, and I’m terrified of losing her.
That’s why this seems more serious than it is.
I have faced bigger problems and come out stronger after.
This is just another challenge, but with Georgie in my life, I have something to lose.
And that’s provoking me and pushing me to dark places.
“I’m taking it, by the sound of that laugh, that you’ve figured it out?” Jess says, smug, throwing me a crooked smile.
“Yes, yes. Come on. Let’s go get some dinner. What is Jeremey up to tonight? What’s on the menu?”
She slips her arm around me waist and hugs me before walking ahead of me to the kitchen. “You’re going to love this,” she says over her shoulder.
In the kitchen I don’t find Jeremey. I find Georgie. She’s wearing a blue apron over her tight blue jeans an enticing crop top that shows off her lower back.
“What’s all this?” I ask, scanning the kitchen.
It smells incredible.
“This is Chef Georgie,” Jess laughs. “I’m going to set the table. Unless there’s anything else you want me to do?” she asks Georgie.
“No, that’s perfect. It’ll be ready soon.”
Jess hurries out of the kitchen carrying a stack of plates.
Georgie sets the pan aside, moving it off the heat. She turns towards me with a radiant smile on her face. “I used to cook for Jess all the time. But I’ve never cooked for you. I gave Jeremey the night off.”
“And what’s on the menu?” I ask, stepping close to her and pulling her into my arms. Instantly, my mood eases.
The tension leaves my body as her scent washes over me like summer rain.
She is perfect against me. It’s like a switch flips, and my world changes when she’s near me.
Nothing else matters, and all of my problems seem so much smaller.
I could conquer the world with her at my side.
“It’s lamb shanks, deboned and shredded, then I fry it in butter with hot chocolate powder, chili spice and mushrooms. You could use blocks of chocolate, too, if you wanted to, but we already had the powder, and it works perfectly.
” She pulls me towards the counter, excited to show me.
I look over the food, elegantly presented, in various stages of preparation.
She looks up at me. Her eyes are shining brightly, eager to please me. It turns me on.
“Then I wrap them in these triangle shapes using phyllo pastry, which I fry in a little butter too. I promise you, it sounds a bit weird with the chocolate and the chili in a meat dish, but you’re going to love it.”
“If it tastes anywhere near as good as it smells, I’m already in love,” I chuckle.
Her eyes dart to me, something flaring in them.
She quickly looks away with a shy giggle.
Was that reaction because I used the word love?
I’ve longed to tell her I love her. Since the day I met her.
Since our first kiss. Obsession, addiction, love.
And now, with her living in my home, sharing my life with me, it’s only become more intense, more intoxicating.
I love you, little one. How would she react? Would it scare her?
“Do you want to change or freshen up, or are you ready to eat?” she asks, stepping away from my embrace and dusting her hands over her apron.
“This is cute on you. It makes me wonder what it would be like to come home and find you cooking in nothing but this apron,” I say, flirting boldly.
Her cheeks blaze bright pink, and she turns her face, covering her mouth to hide her giggle.
I pull her close again and nuzzle my face into her neck. “Give me fifteen minutes. I want to hop in the shower and get the day rinsed off.”
“Alright, we’ll be ready in fifteen minutes then,” she says, looking up at me with those gorgeous golden orbs.
My heart stutters. One day, she will know how I feel about her and what she does to me.
***
“Oh, good, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could resist this amazing food,” Jess blurts out as I walk into the living room.
“I hope I didn’t make you wait too long.” I knit my brows.
Georgie laughs. “We sat down less than a minute ago. She’s just being dramatic.”
“Ah, nothing unusual there,” I tease.
“Hey, that’s rude. I am not dramatic.”
Georgie raises one brow. “What about the time when a moth flew into my dorm room at uni, and you screamed so loud the security staff and three guys almost broke the door down to save you from whatever was obviously trying to murder you.”
“Okay, but that’s different. That moth was huge,” Jess says defensively.
Georgie holds up her fingers showing the minute size of the moth, smiling at me, looking cute and naughty.
I chuckle and grab a plate, dishing up some dinner for myself.
“This really looks incredible. It’s so good to share this meal with you two. With my family,” I say, my heart warm, my soul refreshed.
“Born up a tree,” Jess says, raising her glass.
“Bon apetit,” I grin.
We’re eating in silence for a moment, and I’m blown away by the flavors.
I never would have thought to put chocolate with lamb, but this is the exact type of culinary delight that you’d expect to find at a world-class restaurant.
The chili, the lamb, the chocolate, all blending together in a rich, spicy, decadent experience.
“Damn. This is incredible.” I mutter, my mouth full.
“I second that,” Jess says, nodding enthusiastically.
“I’m really happy you guys like it,” Georgie smiles proudly.
“So, when can I expect some nieces or nephews?” Jessa asks, as calm as ever, with a mischievous grin on her face.
Georgie spins her head towards her best friend in horror, and I laugh.
“I was thinking two boys and a girl?” I reply. “The girl can come last, so her older brothers can protect her.”
“Good thinking. And have you got any names in mind?” Jess asks.
“Guys, what in the world,” Georgie protests, but her smile is radiant, even though the blush.
This is what matters. Family. Relaxing. Enjoying the small pleasures of life. Being around Georgie. This is what life is supposed to be about. Not warehouses and attack plans and drama.